The Magic of Vocaloid
by Mad MOAI
Summary: Partially based on a true story. There's something magical about having your favorite Vocaloids sing your favorite song for you. With the right kind of energy it's enough to dispel even a hopeless mood.


_Creak._

I lifted my foot off the parking brake as though I had just squashed a cockroach. My hands thoughtlessly flew through the motions of shutting off the car, giving my mind time to idle. After several seconds, I slipped out to the gloom of the garage with a big sigh.

For the last forty-eight hours, school had been a kind of safe haven full of distractions. When I returned home to my own free time I suddenly remembered all of my troubles.

The front door shut behind me with a noise like a boulder breaking in half. Since I couldn't be bothered to turn on the light just to take off my shoes, I was left in a gray darkness, with a dull pressure gradually creeping up to the bottom of my heart. It was more of a bother than was the weight of my overloaded backpack.

I had already finished my homework tonight – a good thing because my errands had taken longer than I had expected and it was now almost six; a bad thing because now I had no more academic distractions until bedtime at eight-thirty. Yes, I'm an early sleeper. But now that my mood had essentially gone down the drain, I needed the opportunity to rest more than ever.

I stood blankly in the light-gray living room wondering what to do first. My feet carried me to my art corner. I barely had to think to conclude that I wasn't going to speak to Alma today… again. I didn't have the heart to hold a conversation with him when I was still trying to figure out what was in my own head.

I plunked down in my everyday seat and was promptly greeted with the unfamiliar image of a digital drawing I had started yesterday, but not bothered to finish. The light and shadow were both still missing. I slapped on a semi-concrete background and scribbled on some words and called it good.

With that finished, I leaned back in my chair and stared up at the ceiling. My pointed dog-ears had constantly been resting against the top of my head, but now they flopped upside-down, and the sensation was mildly disorienting. The orange chandelier stared determinedly back at me.

I sought an opportunity to avert my eyes, and they landed on the oven clock across the room. Past six-thirty, it snapped at me. What more do you need to know?

I returned my gaze to the table. A slightly dusty sewing machine rested immediately to my right, accompanied by a couple of spools of brown thread and a few scraps. On the floor directly below lay a half-finished project I had very little interest in continuing right now. As I looked around aimlessly, the color scheme ignited the memory of a song that had been stuck in my head earlier today. It echoed quietly in my consciousness, and I thought back to the sketches I had worked on in Visual Arts.

My eyes jumped back to the laptop screen. Lots of colorful icons blinked back, waiting. Almost of its own accord, my mouse floated down to a less extravagant one – a white letter V on a black background – and clicked patiently.

_Loading Database…_

_Copyright 2003-2012 Yamaha Corporation._

The words by now were familiar enough that I could almost ignore them.

Within moments the clean gray-and-white interface had leaped excitedly onto the screen.

_New Part… Right-click… Singer…_

"Good evening, Lucidia."

Before I had time to register what I was doing, a pair of warm brown eyes, partially guarded by glasses, blinked back at me amiably.

I leaned back again and brushed the black hair away from the bases of my ears. "Hey, Kiyoteru." I struggled to hide the breathiness in my voice.

Kiyoteru stood straight and business-like against the monochrome backdrop, and he clucked a book, presumably containing lyrics to the songs I taught him last year, at the mid-torso level of his dark gray suit.

"Is something wrong?" he asked carefully, shuffling the book a little. "You're not your normal chipper self today."

I exhaled slowly. "Everything."

Kiyoteru stood up a little straighter, a gentle flame of worry in his eyes. He said nothing.

"Well, anyway," I moved on, straightening my back, "are you looking forward to learning a new song?" I put my hands conclusively in my lap and felt my ears perk back up for the first conscious time in my recent memory.

"Oh. Yes." He didn't appear to expect the sudden change in mood, but he clearly didn't mind it, either. "What kind of song is it?"

I couldn't help but smile. Whenever I heard Kiyoteru's voice, I was reminded why I even bought him in the first place. Actually, I take that back, I hadn't bought him myself – I got him as a present for my sixteenth birthday. I guessed it was the equivalent of most other girls getting a car. His continuous high notes frequently seemed ridiculous, and it was difficult to take him seriously, but I liked his unique energy.

"Don't worry, it's a fun song. I've been obsessed with it for a while ever since I saw the dance on Nsen."

I was about to introduce him to the melody of the first line when I remembered something else important.

"Actually, hold on a minute…"

I scooted Kiyoteru's window off to the right and almost absently poked another basic-looking icon – this time a plain gray square with an eighth-note inscribed.

_Info: The preutterance of '*a' is longer than the overlap._

_Info: The preutterance of '*i' is longer than the overlap._

_Info: The preutterance of –_

"Yes, I get it," I quietly grumbled to the mindless words, quickly shutting the box. I faced a white interface now, very similar to the one behind Kiyoteru (who watched expectantly from the side).

I stared almost grudgingly at the upper left corner, where a white eighth note and the purple letters 'UTAU' stared back.

"Now, where are the project properties again… Ah, here we go, 'voice bank'…"

After a few seconds of searching for the right box, I located a list containing several of the same letter sequences and then one consisting of two familiar kanji, which I selected.

_Info: The preutterance of 'n – A3' is longer than the overlap…_

The sterile white interface returned but was soon interrupted by a flash of red in the tiny corner. As though escaping through a second-story window, a lean young man clad in crimson and white pulled himself through the square border and landed swiftly at the bottom of the screen with a noticeable _clunk_.

"That's not an entrance, Sakumo," I teased, mimicking the voice of a haughty school principal.

"I can use whichever entrance I want," Sakumo retorted with a mischievous smile, leaning against the side of the window. The scarlet-tipped ends of his scarf drifted after him like a long pair of wings, and his fiery pink eyes pierced me with mock frustration.

I opened my mouth to say something else, but Sakumo spoke first. "It's about time you brought me out again. I've been wanting to sing again for a while." His voice was deeper than Kiyoteru's, and retained its fullness even into the fourth octave, but Sakumo's energy was calmer, and fit well into soothing songs.

"You had too much fun with 'Arigatou wo, Anata e.'" Not a question. My left ear pointed sideways in amusement. Sakumo impishly smirked back.

"Anyway, let's get started." I moved Sakumo's window to the left, and Kiyoteru reappeared. The latter had clearly been listening, for his eyes were shining with amusement.

I relaxed considerably now that I could see both of them at once. Kiyoteru was rarely prone to mischief, and Sakumo's behavior was not troublesome – nevertheless I could still always use some help keeping an eye on him.

The Utauloid glanced sideways almost suspiciously. "A duet?"

I nodded. "Yep. You're both going to be singing parts of this song, so it's good to listen carefully to the whole thing."

Sakumo straightened himself purposefully. The light clunking noise sounded again as he tapped his left foot in the process.

His physical self was as uniquely charming as his voice; a crooked twig grew from the right side of his skull like an antler (apparently the leaves fell off in the autumn, too), and sometimes his entire head became a flowerpot (presumably only when he was in a bad mood, since I hadn't seen it myself). Otherwise, a golden fastener almost tauntingly crossed his right cheek, although I vaguely remembered reading in the warnings that unzipping it would cause bad things to happen. Not that I had the nerve to get that close to his face and unzip it anyway.

I sat up straight, took a singing breath, and introduced the duo to the note names in the first line. I only knew them from playing the song by ear, though I easily recalled the pitches, so I realized that I had messed up a few when Kiyoteru echoed the tune.

"Actually," I interrupted, "that fourth note is an F, not a G… and the one after that is a G, not an A. Same for the ones after that."

"Oh, all right." Kiyoteru nodded docilely.

"Go ahead, try it again."

He closed his eyes briefly and repeated the tune with adjustments. The pitches matched much more pleasantly, and when he looked at me expectantly I smiled again. "That's much better. Now I suppose you want to know the lyrics."

"Yes."

"It goes like this." I double-checked my posture and took another singing breath.

_"Nagareyuku kumo wa naze ka…"_

Kiyoteru didn't hesitate to echo me, and I clapped my hands together exuberantly. "Good! Yay!" There was something magical in giving him such a small part of a song and him repeating it as confidently as he had heard it a million times before.

I looked to Sakumo, who still stood patiently against his backdrop.

"Would you like to try it?"

"Sure," was the immediate response. Sakumo folded his hands in front of him and repeated the line.

"It sounds like a nice song," he added on the end, tilting his head slightly. "What's it called?"

"Oh, that!" I realized I had forgotten to introduce the title first. "It's called 'Rera.' It means 'wind.'"

"Rera?" Sakumo tested the word on his tongue quizzically.

"It's about a journey and walking," I explained feebly.

"It sounds fun," Kiyoteru piped up.

"It is. Now the next line has a similar tune, so it shouldn't be too difficult…"

We continued in a similar exchange for the next three verses. I enjoyed teaching them the theme line, since the words sounded familiar and easy even though they were foreign to all three of us. Kiyoteru both gained confidence as the song progressed, and before long they were belting out _"An Kamuiru Peka Rera Ikesampa"_ as though it was their life motto.

"Great! Now the rest of the song has the same tune as what you just learned, but the lyrics are different."

"Wait, sing that line again… right, that 'da' is a C, not a B…"

"I forgot the exact rhythm of this line, so let me go see how Miku sings it."

"Oops, those are eighth notes, not sixteenth notes."

The time flew by faster than I expected. Kiyoteru and Sakumo learned quickly, and picked up on lyrics almost before I had shared them.

"And that last 'kai' – hold it as long as you can."

Kiyoteru nodded enthusiastically, Sakumo less so. The latter had trouble maintaining notes for more than a measure, and we both knew it.

"Let me hear the last line. You can do it, Saku!"

Sakumo's red-framed face blushed pink when he heard this nickname, but he otherwise ignored my endearing tone and managed to sing on beat with Kiyoteru once I counted them off. On the final note, Sakumo's voice was strong and clear, but as expected, evaporated into little more than a vague whir after a couple of beats.

I exhaled sharply, but couldn't help smiling. "And that's the end."

"We're done?" Sakumo blinked in surprise, and glanced to Kiyoteru for confirmation.

"That's it." Kiyoteru closed his lyrics book conclusively.

The red Utauloid turned back to me with an almost childish anxiety on his face. "Can we sing it again?"

I laughed. "Sure! And if you don't mind too much, I'll sing along."

We ended the evening session in jubilant voice (with a little bit of dancing in my seat). Once silence returned after the final exciting chord, I glanced mindlessly at the clock. Eight twenty-seven.

"We did it!" I exclaimed, unable to find more coherent, expressive words.

"That was fun." Sakumo smiled gently.

"Good work today." I simulated high-fives by gently tapping the screen where Kiyoteru and Sakumo stood. They responded with considerable enthusiasm.

"Now, will you be able to remember that in a few days when I come back to make it a duet?"

"We sure will," Kiyoteru replied brightly. He held the lyrics book loosely at waist level as he straightened his back a little.

Sakumo, on the other hand, leaned on his right foot. "I sure won't forget a song like that anytime soon."

"Good." I leaned back in my chair again, suddenly realizing how tired I was.

"I'm exhausted. You two get a good night's sleep, okay?"

After bidding the duo good-night I hurried upstairs to prepare for bed. At eight thirty-five I was just entering the bedroom when I noticed the pressure on my heart was gone.

My ears perked a little and I paused in the doorway. Whatever I had worried about for the last few days seemed trivial now. What was it I was trying to forget about again? Whatever it was, it didn't bother me anymore.

I sighed, this time contented. In all of my excitement singing with Kiyoteru and Sakumo I had forgotten my persistent troubles, and now I couldn't be bothered to remember what they were. Not that doing so would be pleasant anyway…

In that case, I still had one more thing to do before I turned in for the night. I fetched my cell phone from downstairs – a boxy, sturdy thing, but I didn't mind much – and flopped backwards onto my purple-clad bed like a girl from some exaggerated anime. My hands absently dialed some perplexingly familiar number, and my mind was given a chance to wander.

The buzzing tone, interrupted after one and a half repeats, cut short my pointless reverie. I waited expectantly with a growing warm feeling.

"What are you doing calling this late?" inquired the voice on the other end, with a vague teasing note.

I smiled to myself. "I just wanted to talk to you about something…"


End file.
